This city is a real odd sort of place.Marvis thought quietly to himself while keeping on the heels of his two male companions. Bruce seems to be familiar enough with the area, if not a bit defensive. I thought he only ever traveled the Southern Wastes. Nonetheless... his thoughts wandered off. The feet of the trio continued to wander the broken streets of the former Milwaukee. The city was a only a glimmer of its former glory, even if it was never very glorious. Some buildings had been completely collapsed in, just piles of rubble. Others had become dangerous without proper repairs and upkeep. They were dying giants just awaiting the day they'd become ruinous piles. Not many people would scavenge about them or take up residence without identifying some semblance of security. The weakened floors and cracked walls, and the eroding foundations, caused the buildings to become such hazards. It was just the way of things in this world.
“Where did you say we were going? A musuem? What's that good for?” Marvis asked anxiously as they passed through the diminishing crowds of the Free Market.
“One question at a time Marv, remember?” Bradley stoically responded.
“Okay, so the first one then.” He responded. Roland cleared his throat, and coughed a little, then said, “It's called the Turner Musuem, it's kinda a high notice place, ya know. They actually have some musical instruments, like from the oldies even possibly a something to play some tunes through. It has power too.”
Roland had a knack for explaining the city, but it always felt like he knew more than he led on. When they first arrived at the city, he left out that there would be certain barricades where the blue-suits would patrol. There was a close call at the gates into the city with Bradley, apparently someone knew him and didn't like him. During the confusion of it all Bindi was lost, she took off and wasn't found by her friends after it all. Brad was caged up and it seemed that Roland wanted to help, even though he kept swearing he serves only his own interests. After the short-term imprisonment, and the preceding mosh pit, the trio fled down the dirt roads exterior to the city. Roland let them know he was avoiding the docks during daylight because he had some arrangements unattended with someone named Sullivan.
“Next question, does any of us know what this guy looks like? Cause I’m thinking he should be the guy with a broken leg and two black eyes for leaving his lady and offspring out there all alone. I mean if you think of it like that, and that if it wasn't for us she, and those little tykes, could be dead...” with a scowl and a moment of silence he murmured to himself, “... or worse.”
“We'll just ask for Greg, or Gregory when we arrive. Someone will know, or at least, we can make them tell us where he is.” A small grin crept across his face. It was always hard to tell when Bradley was telling a joke or being entirely serious, especially with someone being inflicted some form of pain or suffering. And yet, he was still the most reliable and trustworthy person Marvis has yet to meet.
“Okay, so, I'm thinking we'll figure out just how much he owes us, then once we get paid we can really make some real money at the Indian Casino, ya know.” Marvis has been grinding this idea since the Lakefront, when he showed them the flyer he stole from the young woman's house. The flyer read as an invite to the Pottawatomie Casino, and it had a small silver key attached to it. The weight of this paper and its contents remained mostly hidden from Marvis, due to his minor illiteracy. Once he had the others read over it and he found its purpose, he knew where his dirtied and calloused feet would carry him.
“End-o the day special!” A large man standing on the opposite side of a square metal cart, looked like a big dented steel box mounted to a frame with only two wheels on one side. There was some hot coals sitting in a large metal ravine in the top of this cart. And above the coals, held by metal prongs, were big pieces of meat, the animal of origin completely unidentifiable. But they dripped with a black sauce with a red hue. And each piece looked more delicious then the last one. There were four bits left on the pegs. Marvis approached the meat-man and said sure as he held out his hand eagerly for the food.
“That'll be a water token for a couple pieces unless you got something to offer me.” The fat and balding man said. He was slightly intimidating in size, both in his height and girth. He had a set of dark eyes, looked like his eye sockets were too deep in his skull. And he stood all haughty in a huge leather coat trimmed with spotted fur, it was patchy and stitched together mostly but then again, what wasn't nowadays.
“Wait, I thought this was the Free Market?” Marvis said with most sincere confusion dancing across his ruffled caterpillar eyebrows and young, yet sallow cheeks.
“Marv,” Bradley said reluctantly, “it ain't that kind of free.” He tugged on his friends arm pulling him away from the large man, who was playing the piano across the handle of his butcher's knife sitting on the top of the cart. This didn't even come close to shaking Bradley, his hand was already of the Ripper, he had to think about it for a moment before releasing his comforting grip.
“What the hell is Free supposed to mean!?” Marvis was in an outrage. He threw his hands up and then dragged them through his long and knotted white hair. His roots were starting to come through he noticed as he passed another yet shinier metal cart. He paused gazing into the reflection and saw the darkening crown of black hair coming in around his scalp. I look such a fool, no wonder these guys don't take me seriously.
“Where did you say we were going? A musuem? What's that good for?” Marvis asked anxiously as they passed through the diminishing crowds of the Free Market.
“One question at a time Marv, remember?” Bradley stoically responded.
“Okay, so the first one then.” He responded.
Roland cleared his throat, and coughed a little, then said, “It's called the Turner Musuem, it's kinda a high notice place, ya know. They actually have some musical instruments, like from the oldies even possibly a something to play some tunes through. It has power too.”
Roland had a knack for explaining the city, but it always felt like he knew more than he led on. When they first arrived at the city, he left out that there would be certain barricades where the blue-suits would patrol. There was a close call at the gates into the city with Bradley, apparently someone knew him and didn't like him. During the confusion of it all Bindi was lost, she took off and wasn't found by her friends after it all. Brad was caged up and it seemed that Roland wanted to help, even though he kept swearing he serves only his own interests. After the short-term imprisonment, and the preceding mosh pit, the trio fled down the dirt roads exterior to the city. Roland let them know he was avoiding the docks during daylight because he had some arrangements unattended with someone named Sullivan.
“Next question, does any of us know what this guy looks like? Cause I’m thinking he should be the guy with a broken leg and two black eyes for leaving his lady and offspring out there all alone. I mean if you think of it like that, and that if it wasn't for us she, and those little tykes, could be dead...” with a scowl and a moment of silence he murmured to himself, “... or worse.”
“We'll just ask for Greg, or Gregory when we arrive. Someone will know, or at least, we can make them tell us where he is.” A small grin crept across his face. It was always hard to tell when Bradley was telling a joke or being entirely serious, especially with someone being inflicted some form of pain or suffering. And yet, he was still the most reliable and trustworthy person Marvis has yet to meet.
“Okay, so, I'm thinking we'll figure out just how much he owes us, then once we get paid we can really make some real money at the Indian Casino, ya know.” Marvis has been grinding this idea since the Lakefront, when he showed them the flyer he stole from the young woman's house. The flyer read as an invite to the Pottawatomie Casino, and it had a small silver key attached to it. The weight of this paper and its contents remained mostly hidden from Marvis, due to his minor illiteracy. Once he had the others read over it and he found its purpose, he knew where his dirtied and calloused feet would carry him.
“End-o the day special!” A large man standing on the opposite side of a square metal cart, looked like a big dented steel box mounted to a frame with only two wheels on one side. There was some hot coals sitting in a large metal ravine in the top of this cart. And above the coals, held by metal prongs, were big pieces of meat, the animal of origin completely unidentifiable. But they dripped with a black sauce with a red hue. And each piece looked more delicious then the last one. There were four bits left on the pegs. Marvis approached the meat-man and said sure as he held out his hand eagerly for the food.
“That'll be a water token for a couple pieces unless you got something to offer me.” The fat and balding man said. He was slightly intimidating in size, both in his height and girth. He had a set of dark eyes, looked like his eye sockets were too deep in his skull. And he stood all haughty in a huge leather coat trimmed with spotted fur, it was patchy and stitched together mostly but then again, what wasn't nowadays.
“Wait, I thought this was the Free Market?” Marvis said with most sincere confusion dancing across his ruffled caterpillar eyebrows and young, yet sallow cheeks.
“Marv,” Bradley said reluctantly, “it ain't that kind of free.” He tugged on his friends arm pulling him away from the large man, who was playing the piano across the handle of his butcher's knife sitting on the top of the cart. This didn't even come close to shaking Bradley, his hand was already of the Ripper, he had to think about it for a moment before releasing his comforting grip.
“What the hell is Free supposed to mean!?” Marvis was in an outrage. He threw his hands up and then dragged them through his long and knotted white hair. His roots were starting to come through he noticed as he passed another yet shinier metal cart. He paused gazing into the reflection and saw the darkening crown of black hair coming in around his scalp. I look such a fool, no wonder these guys don't take me seriously.